


Fortitude

by mikemunhoe



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:14:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikemunhoe/pseuds/mikemunhoe





	Fortitude

The elevator ride back up to the surface was silent. Usually, this was the normality, as John rarely spoke to anyone besides those who demanded his response or those he needed to intimidate into their own state of silence. But this silence was tense and made Macready nervously bounce his weight from one foot to the other. When the doors slid open Maccready glanced to John’s face. 

Ever since John had infiltrated the Institute he had looked different. He disappeared for weeks after they built the molecular relay. After the first few days Maccready found himself reluctantly slinking himself up to the Prydwen to ask if John had been around at all.

“The following day I found the Network Scanner holotape on my desk, full of Institute information. I can only assume this was Knight Abram’s work but no one claims to have seen him enter or exit the Prydwen” Macready read. He had snuck into the Elder’s quarters rather than confront the man and decided to take a glance at Maxson’s terminal.

Well… not dead. So that’s good.

When John returned his hair had been cut and slicked back while his usually untamed and long beard had been trimmed and taken care of. The grime of the wastes had been cleaned from his face, but he only managed to look worse as deep and sunken bags had formed under his eyes and his lips were pulled into a tight frown. Similar to now, as they exited the bunker.

Maccready knew better than to say anything about the blood splattered on John’s face. 

John almost mechanically reached for a flare off his belt and slashed it against his metal chest piece to light it, tossing it carelessly to the ground as blue smoke bellowed out of it. Maccready noticed John had yet to sheathe his pistol.

Now, on the command deck Maccready hung back a bit by the entrance, trying to stay out of the rapidly approaching confrontation. 

“Has the traitor been dealt with?” Maxson said, his voice deep and low with anger.

“Yes” John responded quietly, handing Maxson Danse’s holotags. John had barely spoken since exiting the vault which had caused a toll on his vocal strings. His voice was always rough and aggravated and low. ‘Selective Muteness due to trauma’ one of the medical scribes explained to him in the mess hall while John had his back turned.

“I’m sorry?” Maxson growled almost mockingly, his voice raising slightly in volume. Maccready openingly glared at the Elder at that in which one was returned without hesitation. 

Sure, the whole not being able to communicate during combat and all could get frustrating but John had really grown on Maccready. He had agreed to help him on multiple occasions (despite his nature to only look out for himself) with just a nod of the head and that made it easy for the mercenary. No questions, no judgements.

“I did what had to be done” John stated, louder, his fists clenching at his side. The pistol still held tightly there.

“And that’s all I’ve ever asked of you” Maxson hissed in response.

Maccready winced at that. He could visibly see John tense, his fingers twitching over the trigger of his pistol. He half expected the Knight to shoot Maxson’s brains out right then and there. He glanced back to Maxson who was now going on about John’s promotion.

It was hard to see from this angle but John’s jaw clenched and he looked to the ground, shaking his head. A choked laugh came from the now Paladin but left as quickly as it came as he yelled angrily, throwing his pistol to the ground, hard.  
John angrily pointed his finger at Elder Maxson and took a few steps forward, towering over the man who didn’t even backup an inch. Instead Maxson defyingly glared up into John’s eyes almost like he was daring him to do something, refusing to back down.

“I’m done” John hissed, turning away from the Elder, “C’mon Maccready”

Mac quickly scrambled to his feet, shaking himself from the scene before him and fell in line behind John.

“Excuse me?” Maxson said through clenched teeth.

“I’m leaving. The Brotherhood. For good” John said “When your airship is being blown to bits, darlin? Keep me in mind” the man grimly smiled to Maxson who stood with furrowed eyebrows, one foot forward as if he was going to try and stop John. When Maxson didn’t move or speak John took that as his queue to leave and grabbed Maccready by the elbow, dragging him out.

The following months Maccready and John began to drift apart. The bearded man had begun to work with the Institute which Maccready had openly disagreed with. John had shoved him up against a wall, gripping him by his scarf.

“Then go” John had said simply. But Maccready knew him better than that. The merc could see the pain in the man’s eyes as he said those words, but before Mac could say anything more John had thrown him to the ground as if he weighed nothing and stomped out of Sanctuary.

Maccready had waited around that night, planning on John to return sometime that night. He had given up trying to stay awake by midnight and decided to head back to the sleeping quarters. He glanced to the two empty beds in the room that once held two of John’s close friends. If John could so easily kill Danse and Gage then why hasn’t he just killed him? Maybe he would when he came back.

For the next week the merc waited. He marked himself down for guard duty all day hoping he would spot the man first. He didn’t even know why… he thought maybe he could talk him out of working with the Institute or something. As days grew into weeks and then into months Maccready gave up thinking John was ever coming back.

He had been leaving Diamond City when he saw it. The explosion. Right where the C.I.T ruins had been. Maccready almost dropped his gun as he stared at the cloud climbing over even Boston’s highest skyscrapers. Before he could think, he was bolting towards the explosion. If he was fast enough he could see what had happened. ‘Just over the bridge, just over the bridge, just over the bridge.’

The dust had settled by time he got close and he could see the crater. Water threatened to gush into it but was stopped by the rubble of the C.I.T building. Around the crater were dozens of Minutemen, already barking out orders to each other to ‘start digging through the rubble’ and to ‘stop the water from breaking through’.

Maccready’s mind went a million miles per hours as he tried to piece together everything. Were they looking for survivors? How could someone survive and explosion like that? And then his mind clicked. What if John was in there? He threw his rifle over his back and jogged precariously towards the Minutemen, scanning through the crowd to see if Garvey happened to be in the mix. Sure enough, the man in question stood surrounded by a bunch of men and women who were quickly scattering into the crater.

“Garvey!” Mac called out as he approached.

“Oh, Maccready. I didn’t expect you to be here” the man replied, his train of thought distracted as he scanned the crater to see if he could find anything from up where he stood.

“What the heck happened? Was John in there?” the merc gushed out through panting breaths, his hands gliding through his hair as he stared wide eye at the crater.

“The Brotherhood of Steel happened” Preston said through gritted teeth “we got wind of it and came down here to help with the aftermath. We expected them to stay but… of course they left as soon as the fighting was over. We don’t know if John was in there yet”

Maccready let out a breath at that and muttered “Shit” under his breath. Duncan forgive him.

“Are you here to help? We could use as many hands as we can get” Preston asked, holding out a shovel to Maccready. Maccready stared at the shovel for a moment, his brain taking a bit to process before he took the shovel from Preston and pretty much stumbled into the crater.

Hours had passed as they saved survivor after survivor when they had finally managed to push over a hunk of rubble to find John knocked out under it, a young boy sheltered beside him. Two Minutemen rushed to their sides. One pulled the boy out from under John and felt for his pulse whilst the other felt for John’s own. 

“They’re alive” He said to Maccready who was shaken from his shock as he yelled the man’s words to Preston who quickly ordered some men down to carry the two out for medical attention. As they hauled John onto a makeshift stretcher Maccready could see some of his more serious wounds. Down the side where the rubble had been lying on him were multiple gashes which now, as they had been disturbed from being moved around, were seeping blood through his cut jacket. His face also had plenty of bruises on it and his eye was a puffy and swollen. His leg had been completely broken and a bone threatened to jab out through his skin. God, how had he survived that? How will he survive this?

Seconds, minutes, hours dragged on as Maccready finally decided to head up to one of the camps for the night which had been precariously set up outside the crater. When he had arrived he was bombarded by ‘doctors’ who gave him a small bag of Radaway and told him to use it while eating to wash out the rads. He had completely forgotten all about the whole ‘Nuclear explosion’ part of this whole thing as he sat down in front of one of the campfires to eat some Yum-Yum Deviled Eggs a kind lady had served to him, thanking him for the help.  
He stared into the fire and thought about whether or not John was going to be okay. They had been taking care of him since they found him, refusing to let Maccready enter the tent. 

“Everything’s fine. He’ll be okay. Just a few more hours” They kept saying to Mac to get him to leave to which he finally just decided to give up. He had argued with them enough, and it wasn’t like going into the tent would magically fix John. If anything it’d just make Maccready feel worse.

All he could really do was wait and hope for the best. He was never very good at that.


End file.
